Earnest was a stray kitten rescued by Sarah, a sympathetic college student who lived next door to Steve Hale. Steve often joked with his neighbor that if she ever thought she couldn't take care of Earnest, he'd be happy to take the gray tiger-striped tabby off her hands. Then one wet and chilly night in December, Steve returned home from his father's funeral only to find a note in his mailbox. And suddenly, he felt his spirits lift.

Sarah was moving to the East Coast and couldn't take Earnest with her; would I want him? It had been a long time since I'd had a pet of my own, and the timing seemed perfect. My father, a veterinarian, had often brought unwanted strays home with him, and the loving little misfits were enmeshed in all my childhood memories.

I called Sarah that night, and Earnest moved in the next day. But I didn't adopt Earnest. He adopted me. The timing of his arrival was serendipitous, as if he was meant to fill the huge void in my life created when I lost my dad.

Within a week I realized that I was the lucky one in this chance adoption. More than any human I've ever known, Earnest demonstrated the philosophy of "living in the moment." Most of us never grasp the cliche, but Earnest clearly understood the need to strip life down to its bare essentials: a day in the sun, a good meal, a warm place to sleep and the simple happiness that comes from interaction with people, even strangers and nature.

Earnest faced every day with equanimity, even when he was diagnosed with lymphoma, an unrelenting and terminal challenge. He fought hard, but the illness simply outran him. He spent his last days in my backyard, in a little outdoor cabin I'd bought him. Lying there so regally, he calmly absorbed the sights, scents and sounds that he loved so much, while I desperately tried every form of treatment that veterinary science could offer. During those final weeks, my sister Julie sat with him for hours making sure that he was safe, comfortable and free of pain. For that, I am forever grateful.

Finally, we had to accept that it was time to let him go. In one of those sublime and irreducible moments in life, Earnest began to lick my hand as the sedative entered his bloodstream. I often reflect on his intelligence, calm and understanding during those final few seconds. Despite the difficulty the memory brings, I feel honored to have been with him for the time we had together.

Throughout our seven years together, Earnest was my loyal, affectionate, loving companion. He entered my life with nothing but a collar with a tiny bird bell, but he left me with so much more: years of memories, hilarious stories and lessons about life.